Journey

سفر مرا به زمین های استوایی برد
و زیر سایه آن"بانیان" سبز تنومند
چه خوب یادم هست
عبارتی که به ییلاق ذهن وارد شد :

"وسیع باش و تنها و سربه زیر و سخت "

من از مصاحبت آفتاب می آیم کجاست سایه
ولی هنوز قدم گیج انشعاب بهار است
و بوی چیدن از دست باد می اید
و حس لامسه پشت غبار حالت نارنج
به حالت بیهوشی ست.
در این کشاکش رنگین کسی چه می داند

که سنگ عزلت من در کدام نقطه ی فصل است ؟
هنوز جنگل ابعاد بیشمار خودش را
نمی شناسد .
هنوز برگ سوار حرف اول باد است
هنوز انسان چیزی به آب می گوید
و در ضمیر چمن جوی یک مجادله جاریست
و در مدار درخت
طنین بال کبوتر حضور مبهم رفتار آدمی زاد است.
صدای همهمه می آید
و من مخاطب تنهای بادهای جهانم
و رودهای جهان رمز پاک محو شدن را به من می آموزند
فقط به من

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The journey took me to tropical lands
And under the shade of a big and verdant banyan
I so well remember
the phrase that entered the cool abode of my mind:
"Be large,be on your own,be modest and hard"
I am back from a session with the sun
Where's the shade?
But my step is still giddy from the spring's break-up
and the wind's fingers smell of picking
and the sense of touch lies senseless
behind the hazy state of fragnant oranges
in this solourful tug of war ,who know
at which point of the season
lies my rock of solitude?
As yet the forest has not discovered
the full expanse of its countless dimensions
and the leaf continue to ride
the first letter of the wind
and man continues to talk to water
and in the mind of the meadow
there still flows the stram of an argument
and in the tree's circuit
the echoes of a dove's wings
signal the ambiguous presence of human activity .
I can hear a hum of voices
and i am the sole target of the world's winds,
and the world's rivers teach me
ONLY ME NONE OTHER,

I must build myself a boat...

قایقی خواهم ساخت
خواهم انداخت به آب
دور خوام شد از این خاک غریب
که در آن هیچ کسی نیست که در بیشه ی عشق
قهرمانان را بیدار کند
قایق از تور تهی
و دل از آرزوی مروارید
همچنان خواهم راند.
نه به آبی ها دل خواهم بست
نه به دیا-پریانی که سر آب به در آرند
و در آن تابش تنهایی ماهی گیران
می فشانند فسون از سر گیسوهاشان
همچنان خواهم خواند
همچنان خواهم راند
پشت دریاها شهریست
که در آن پنجره ها رو به تجلی باز است
بام ها جای کبوتر هایی ست که به فواره ی هوش بشری می نگرند.
دست هر کودک ده ساله ی شهر شاخه ی معرفتی ست
مردم شهر به یک چینه چنان می نگرند
که به یک شعله به یک خواب لطیف
خاک موسیقی احساس تو را می شوند
و صدای پر مرغان اساطیر می آید در باد
پشت دریاها شهریست
قایقی باید ساخت..
برای دوست خوبم سحر!..

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I 'll build myself a boat
and launch it on the sea
I'll sail away from this strange land
Where no one awakens the heroes
in the forest of love
My boat has no net
and my heart desires no pearl
I'll sail on and on
I'll not lose my heart to blue vistas
nor to the mermaids that rise from the water
and,in the intense solitude of the fishermen,
radiate charm from the tips of their tresses
I'll sing on
I'll sail on.
There is a city beyond the seas,
Where the windows open to elightment
where on the roofs,pigeons stare at the fountains of human intelligence.
and where each ten-year old holds a branch of inner knowledge.
The people of this city contemplate a mude wall
as if it were a flame ,or a lovley dream.
There,the earth hears the music of your feelings,
and the wind brings the sound of mythical birds on the wing.
Beyond the seas,there's a city !
I must build myself a boat...
Sohrab Sepehri
In memory of my dear friend " Sahar"

Deeply in my heart

As far as my eyes can see
There are shadows approaching me
And to those who I left behind
I wanted YOU to know
You've always shared my deepest thoughts
You follow where I go

Oh when I am OLD and WISE

Bitter words mean little to me
Autumn Winds will blow right through me
And some day in the mist of time
When they ask me If I know YOU
I'd smile and and say you were a friend of mine
And the sadness will be lifted from my eyes

Oh when I am OLD and WISE

As far as my eyes can see

There are shadows surrounding me

And to those who I leave behind

I wanted YOU all to know

You've always shared my darkest hours

I'll miss you when I go

And Oh when I am OLD and WISE

Heavy words that tossed and blew me

Like autumn winds that will blow right through me

And someday in the mist of time

When they ask you If you knew me

Rememeber that you were a friend of mine

As the final curtains falls before my eyes

Oh when I am OLD and WISE

Songwriters: Parsons, A;Woolfson, E

Let’s not muddy the water

White poplar: Let’s not muddy the water


Let’s not muddy the water:
Somewhere downstream,a pigeon may be drinking ,

Or in a distant wood,a goldfinch may be washing her feathers.

Or in the village ,a jar may be filling.

Let’s not muddy the water :

Perhabs the current passes by a poplar,

Washing sorrow from some lonely heart.

Perhabs a dervish has dipped his dry bread in it.

The people upstream, they are so serene!

May their springs never dry !

May their cows gush milk forever!

I have not seen their village.

Besides their wattles, there’s no doubt the footprint of God.

There, the moon batches in light the expanse of the Word

In the village upstream, the mud walls are no doubt kept low.

The villagers know the red poppy ,when it blooms.

There, blue is a true blue, no doubt.

When a flower opens ,It’s news.

Oh what a village ! May its alleyways be forever filled with music!

The people upstream appreciate the water.

They have not muddied it.

Let’s also keep the water clear.

SOHRAB SEPEHRI